скачать книгу бесплатно
“Thanks for the warning. Better pick up a bottle of something strong when you pass the store.”
“Visits were so much easier when my dad was alive.”
Greg raised an eyebrow. “He was always on the golf course.”
“But he usually wandered in at some point and he was always pleased to see me. Mom still thinks I’m a wild child.”
“It’s the reason I married you. I’ll see you tonight, and you can be as wild as you like.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Text me later to let me know how you are?”
“Only if you promise not to give Pamela your phone.”
“Or you could stop sexting.” He pulled her against him. “On second thoughts, don’t stop sexting. I like it and it’s great for my reputation.”
“Oh please—your island approval ratings are already through the roof.” She shoved at his chest. “Go.”
“I’ll see you later.” He scooped up his coat and car keys and made for the door. “Oh and, Jenna—”
“What?”
“Try to relax.” He winked at her and was gone before she could throw something.
Shivering in the blast of cold air he’d let into the house, she walked back into the bedroom and glanced out of the window.
Despite everything, he’d made her smile. He always made her smile.
Then she noticed him standing by the car, his shoulders slumped, and her smile faded.
He was always so upbeat about everything, but right now he didn’t look upbeat. Was he putting on an act for her sake?
She waited until he drove away, then swapped pajamas for her smart black pants. Last year they’d fitted perfectly but now they were tight around the waist and she knew that had nothing to do with being pregnant and everything to do with the fact she’d started using food as a comfort.
Greg had left coffee for her and she poured herself a cup, reached for the oatmeal and then changed her mind and took a cupcake from the tin instead. She’d made them the day before and decorated them with sugar icing. They were supposed to be a peace offering for her mother, something she could take to her book group, but she wasn’t going to miss one, was she?
Not the healthiest breakfast, but the negative pregnancy test was enough to make her want to fall face-first into the nearest source of sugar.
She sank her teeth into the softness of the cake and closed her eyes.
Baking soothed her.
If she’d had a child, she would have baked with them. She would have had the softest buttercream, the lightest sponge cakes and her cookies would have been the envy of everyone. She could imagine all the kids saying I wish my mom could cook as well as yours.
As Jenna didn’t have any kids to eat the cupcakes, she ate most of them herself. She ate to fill a big hole in her soul, but unfortunately it filled other things, too, including her fat cells.
She stared at the crumbs on her plate, drenched with regret and self-loathing.
Why had she done that? It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand what was going on here. She was married to a therapist. She felt a rush of frustration that she didn’t have more control. She knew that smothering her emotions with sugar wasn’t going to solve anything, but she didn’t seem able to stop it. Her desperation for a baby had snapped something inside her.
She felt as if her life was slipping out of her grip and it was terrifying.
She had a sudden urge to call her sister, but that would make her late for work.
Would her sister even understand? Lauren had the perfect life. She had a beautiful house, no money worries, a great husband and a beautiful daughter.
And she couldn’t exactly talk to her mother.
Nancy Stewart was the sort of person who had time and sympathy enough for everyone. Unless you happened to be her daughter.
Jenna drove to school along empty roads. In the summer months, her journey took at least twice as long. From late May through to early September, the Vineyard hummed with visitors, both summer residents and day trippers. They came to savor the “escapist” feel of the island, but did so in such large numbers that they inadvertently turned it into a copy of the places they’d left behind.
Jenna parked in the school parking lot and was caught at the gate by Mrs. Corren, who was anxious about Daisy, her daughter.
Andrea Corren gave her a wobbly smile. “Hi, Jenna. How was your weekend?”
I found out I’m not pregnant. “Good, thanks, Andrea. You?”
“Not good.” The wobble in her smile moved to her voice. “Do you have a minute?”
She didn’t. She had twenty hyperactive children waiting for her and she needed to keep them busy, occupied and entertained. That, she’d discovered, was the way to achieve a happy, harmonious classroom.
What she didn’t need was to arrive late.
But she was also a little worried about Daisy.
“Of course.” She saw Andrea Corren’s eyes fill. “Let’s find somewhere more private.” She opted for the gym, which would be quiet for at least another half hour.
“How can I help, Andrea?”
She sat down on one of the small chairs. It forced her knees up at a strange angle, one of the reasons she rarely wore skirts or dresses to work. Dignity went out of the window when you taught six-year-olds. Sitting in this awkward position, she was horribly aware of the waistband of her pants biting into her stomach.
Why had she eaten that cupcake?
Andrea sat down next to her. “Things have been unsettled at home. Tense. We—Things are a little—rough—right now between Daisy’s father and me. Our marriage isn’t great.”
Jenna stopped thinking about cupcakes. By “rough” did she mean something physical? This was a small community. Everyone knew Todd Corren had lost his job before Christmas and been out of work since. And everyone knew he’d punched Lyle Carpenter in an altercation on New Year’s Eve.
“Do you think the problems in your marriage are having an impact on Daisy?”
“He’s having an affair.” Andrea blurted out the words. “He denies it, but I know it’s true.”
“I’m sorry.” And she was. A fractured marriage was an injury to the whole family. Children limped wounded into her classroom, trying to make sense of the change in their world and she did what she could to create an environment that felt safe and secure.
“I haven’t said anything to the children, and I’m trying hard not to show how upset I am because I don’t want to confuse them. They don’t know what’s going on, and I’m afraid if I say something he’ll make me seem like the bad guy. Mom is having one of her moods again, that kind of thing. I don’t want to bring the kids into this. How does Daisy seem to you?”
“She’s been a little quieter than usual, but she hasn’t said anything specific.” Jenna made some suggestions, careful to keep the conversation focused on the child. It wasn’t her job to fix their marriage or pass comment, although invariably when you were a teacher, you became involved with the whole family. The fact that she’d been at school with the mothers of half the kids in her class, and some of the fathers, occasionally complicated matters.
Andrea pulled a tissue out of her bag. “I don’t want this to harm my kids. If he stops right now, maybe we can fix this. Maybe they never have to know. But I’m not good at keeping secrets. I’m an honest person and I’ve raised them to be honest, too, so by making me do this, he’s tainted our family. It isn’t just his deception, it’s mine, too, because now I’m lying to my kids.”
Jenna understood how heavy a secret could be, especially when you carried it for a long time. “I really hope you manage to work out your problems, Andrea.”
“We used to be so close. Known each other since we were kids, like you and Greg. Maybe that’s the problem. We’ve been together so long, he never sowed his wild oats.”
Jenna had never sowed wild oats either. Neither, to the best of her knowledge, had Greg.
“Have you thought about talking to someone?”
Andrea’s eyes filled again. “I’ve been seeing Greg.”
That didn’t come as a surprise. Half the island had seen Greg at one time or another. The other half had seen his partner in the practice, Alison.
“I’m glad you’re talking to someone.”
“Greg is wonderful. You’re lucky being married to him.” Andrea reached for her purse. “He has this way of talking, sort of quiet but firm. Makes you think there’s hope and that you’re going to be able to fix whatever the problem is.”
That voice hadn’t managed to fix the fact that she couldn’t get pregnant.
“He’s good at what he does.” That was true. Greg made a difference to the island. And so did she. Community was important to both of them. Jenna often wondered how her sister could live in a big anonymous city. She knew she wouldn’t be happy doing that. With the exception of a few vacations and her time at college, Jenna had lived her whole life here. She’d married Greg in the Old Whaling Church in Edgartown in the presence of half the community. Her oldest friend had made the cake and Lauren had done her makeup. She’d known most of the guests her whole life.
Jenna stood up. “I’ll keep an eye on Daisy.”
“Thank you. Daisy adores you. You’re all she talks about. Mrs. Sullivan said this, Mrs. Sullivan said that.”
Thank goodness Mrs. Sullivan hadn’t said the F word.
“Daisy is smart.”
“Too smart sometimes. I’m worried she’ll see things I don’t want her seeing.” Andrea stood up, too. “You’re very good at your job, Jenna. You’re going to be a wonderful mother when you eventually decide to have children.”
Jenna managed to keep her smile in place.
She walked Andrea back to the school gates, promised to keep an eye on Daisy and then made her way back to the classroom.
The wind was biting and most of the islanders were longing for spring. Not Jenna. Spring meant buds on the trees and lambs playing in the fields. Everywhere you looked there was new life. This time last year she’d been sure that by now she’d be pushing a stroller along the streets. Instead she was back in her classroom teaching other people’s kids.
Of course it was still possible that spring might be lucky for her, too.
If she and Greg had nonstop sex over the next few weeks she could potentially be pregnant by April or May. That would mean a Christmas baby.
She allowed herself a moment of dreaming, and then snapped out of it.
All she thought about was babies.
Obsess: to worry neurotically or obsessively.
Her obsession had even entered the bedroom. When she and Greg made love she found herself thinking, Please let me get pregnant.
Maybe she’d cook a special meal tonight. Open a bottle of wine. Try to relax a little. She could greet him at the door wearing nothing but a smile and hope Mrs. Pardew across the road wasn’t looking out the window.
She reached the door of her classroom and winced at the noise that came from inside.
Bracing herself, she pushed open the door and the noise dimmed to a hum.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan.” The chorus of voices lifted the cloud that had been hanging over her.
Maybe she didn’t have her own children, but she had them. She loved their spontaneity and their innocence, their bright eyes and smiles. She even loved the naughty kids. Like Billy Grant, who was currently standing on his desk, waiting for her reaction.
He was a rebel with a strong sense of adventure and a cavalier attitude to risk. Fortunately no one knew more about that instinct than Jenna.
“Billy, our classroom rule is that we don’t stand on desks.”
Billy folded his arms but didn’t move. “You’re not the boss of me.”
Jenna arched an eyebrow.
He lasted two seconds and then scrambled off the desk and plopped onto his chair.
Everyone knew that when Mrs. Sullivan gave you that look you did what you were supposed to do or you’d be in serious trouble. He made another attempt to deflect blame. “Bradley told me to do it.”
“If he told you to jump off a bridge would you do that?” She straightened her shoulders and addressed the whole class. “One of our classroom rules is that we don’t stand on the desks.”
“Rules are boring,” Bradley muttered. “Why do we have to have them?”
So we can break them.
“Bradley wants to know why we have rules,” she said. “Who can tell him the answer?”
A sea of hands shot into the air and she picked the girl in the front. Little Stacy Adams, whose dad had recently run off with another man, giving the island enough gossip to feast on for a decade.
“To keep us safe.”
“That’s right.” Jenna smiled. “Some rules are there to protect us.” And if you ignored the rules you could be left with a secret and a guilty conscience.
Maybe it was her fault that she wasn’t closer to her mother, she thought. She knew things she wasn’t supposed to know and that made things awkward.
Keeping that thought to herself, she moved to the front of the class. “Everyone sit in a circle.”
There was a mass scramble as they found their places on the floor.
“Will you tell us a story, Mrs. Sullivan?”
“One of your special made-up ones.”
As they sat round watching her expectantly, she felt a rush of pride and affection. Winter would soon give way to spring, and spring to summer and then this group of children would be leaving her classroom for the last time.
When they’d arrived in her class, they’d been a raggedy, unruly bunch but now they were a team. Friendships had formed. Some friendships might even last through to adulthood, as hers and Greg had. Some might fracture.
Not all relationships were easy.
She threw herself into her day, moving from story time to math. Unlike some of her colleagues, she loved teaching first graders. They were curious and enthusiastic. They loved coming to school and they loved her. From the moment she stepped into the classroom, she was wrapped in warmth and affection.
